


The Irish Keep Gate-Crashing

by waltzforanight



Category: Canadian Actor RPF
Genre: Gift Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-09
Updated: 2009-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltzforanight/pseuds/waltzforanight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hugh makes a visit to the set of "Californication".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Irish Keep Gate-Crashing

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lucifuge5 as part of the midsummer2009 exchange; contains minor spoilers for episode 2x07 of "Californication". Huge, huge thanks to Sionnain for listening to me flail, being an awesome cheerleader and beta-ing at the last minute. Lucifuge, I hope you enjoy how this turned out - it was the prompt you didn't remember for your Dear Santa letter, but hopefully that just adds to the surprise. :D? Title is from the song by The Thrills.

It's a long-ass flight from Toronto to LAX, or at least it seems that way this time. Hugh's on a last-minute-decision trip to LA, something he decided to do at about four o'clock this morning, because Hugh is stressed out and restless, worried that he's in over his head with the upcoming season of "Durham County". He didn't know what else to do, so he'd called Callum because Callum is the only person who can really make Hugh calm the hell down when he gets like this.

Some people might find it pathetic that he's flying 4,000 kilometres to see his not-really-boyfriend for one night, but Hugh doesn't. It's unconventional, the way they work, but it _works_ and that's the point. He and Callum would kill each other within a week if they actually tried being in a normal relationship, but this - this they do, and they do it well. It's been over ten fucking years, which throws Hugh for a loop every time he thinks about it, but he takes it as proof that they don't need to change.

The flight is a late-morning one, which means the in-flight movie is lighthearted family fun in the guise of _Stuart Little_. There's a little kid farther down the row who is thrilled by this, and tells everyone on the whole plane that this is his favourite movie ever. Hugh watches it for awhile, and agrees that it's pretty good as far as talking animal movies go, but he falls asleep halfway through and ends up dreaming about Callum Little and his adopted father, Dr House, who thinks Hugh the Street Rat is a _no good dimwit with cheese breath_.

When he wakes up, Hugh decides that he really needs to stop watching "House" reruns at three in the morning.

The plane lands not long after Hugh wakes up, though, which is good because that nap only made him more restless than before. He twitches and jitters his way through the terminal and customs, then baggage claim, then out to find a cab, which is the part that _really_ takes forever. Hugh spends 45 minutes waiting for a cab because he keeps letting people with families and the elderly take the ones that do show up.

When he finally gets into one, it smells like rotten fish, which he hopes is not actually a sign of things to come.

Unsurprisingly, they get stuck in traffic. (This is LA, it's pretty much expected by everyone who has ever been here for more than five minutes.) It takes hours to get out of the traffic jam, and Hugh ends up paying the cab driver more money than the average Canadian cabbie makes in an entire _week_, probably, but then he's finally at the studio. It's late afternoon, California time, and there are surprisingly few people around. He has no trouble getting through security, though the security guard gives him a dirty look when she sees his Ontario driver's license - probably because the things are ugly as fuck now. Hugh would be pissed if he had to look at them all the time, too. But the security guard points him in the right direction anyway, and he finds the right lot without much trouble.

**

Hugh walks onto the right set and, after the sea of cameras, lights and two dozen crew guys wearing cargo shorts, the first thing he sees is Callum. More specifically, Callum clad in nothing but his underwear and tied to the bed by his wrists _and_ ankles. A few seconds later, while Hugh is still trying to process that sight, a pretty young girl with long, dark hair - also in nothing but her underwear, he notices, as if it were possible to _not_ notice - saunters over to where Callum is laying and pops a - _what the fuck_, a ball gag into his mouth, then straddles him backwards. She leans down to check the ankle bindings and -

Hugh wonders if he's dreaming again, and if so, when the cheesy 70s porno music is going to start.

It's not until David Duchovny bursts into the room that Hugh really realizes this is a _scene_ they're shooting.

With that knowledge, it's a little easier for Hugh to figure out what's going on. He watches the scene unfold and, truth be told, he's surprised by how funny it is. Callum's not exactly known for his humourous roles, but man, he's _nailing_ this stuff, and Hugh has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cracking up over _d'you like crêpes?_ It's obvious that Callum is having a riot playing such an odd-ball, and it's good to see him so light-hearted. He's looking good, too, Hugh notes, and not just in a _fuck me now_ kind of way. He looks happy. Healthy.

He has a _goatee_, which is just fucking bizarre.

The director calls cut and asks for "just one more", which in Hugh's experience means everyone is stuck here for at least another hour and a half. He leans against the back wall, out of the way, and watches as Callum chats with Duchovny and the girl, Hugh doesn't know her name. They're talking about the scene, maybe, and Duchovny wanders over to the other side of the room to retrieve the ball gag, which he presents to Callum with a flourish. Then he laughs and pops it into Callum's mouth - Callum spits it back out and Hugh isn't close enough to hear what he says, but he knows Callum, and he'd bet any money it's _get out of here, you fucker_ and a short laugh.

It's another five minutes before the director calls for places, and Hugh has plenty time to go over and say hello before that happens, but he doesn't. He's kind of enjoying just watching Callum, who doesn't notice Hugh is there until he's lying back on the bed for the next take. But when he _does_ notice, his face breaks into a huge grin and that - man, that always gets to Hugh, the way Callum's face lights up when he's really and truly _pleased_, and that just seeing Hugh can make him look like that.

Callum kind of waves, but his hands are already tied back again, so it doesn't really work. Hugh waves back, though, and smiles as he nods towards the ropes. Callum gets this devious little glint in his eyes and he tugs on the bindings - _just testing them out_, he tells the director innocently - then winks at Hugh, who is thankfully still standing in the back because _Jesus_. That always gets to him, too, that look, and he has to discreetly adjust himself before he can re-focus on the filming.

**

Hugh ends up being right. It's another two hours before the director is satisfied with the film footage he has and lets the cast go. Callum stops to talk to him for a few minutes, nodding occasionally and shooting Hugh an apologetic glance when the guy pulls out a script and starts flipping through it. Hugh just shrugs - directors are perfectionists no matter what country you're in. He knows how it goes.

When Callum finally gets free, Hugh meets him halfway across the room. "Interesting role. I didn't realize you were moving into porn, Rennie," he comments dryly in lieu of hello, running his eyes up and down Callum's body without a hint of subtlety. "Finally had enough of the serial killer gig, moving on to lady killer now?"

Callum just flips him off as he struggles to put on one of those stupid set-provided bathrobes, the ones that look like something you get at the Holiday Inn. He gets the waist tie tangled up in the sleeve, somehow, and Hugh can't help but laugh at him, which only makes him even _more_ frustrated. Finally Callum gets it on, though he ends up throwing the _stupid damn tie_ onto the ground in frustration. He doesn't actually close the robe, though, so you can still see everything most people would be trying to hide right now, and Hugh has no idea why he even bothered with it. He'd ask, but Callum is already walking off the set and, since Hugh has no idea where anything is around here, he figures he should follow. (He stops to pick up the discarded tie, though, because maybe that scene he's been watching film for the last two hours has given him some ideas.)

They don't say much as they walk across the lot. Callum asks how the flight was, and Hugh purposely does not mention the _Stuart Little_ dream. They pass Ball Gag Girl, who is now fully dressed and, apparently, on her way out to meet her boyfriend. She waves at them as she passes, and Hugh finds out her name is Madeline - which is good to know because he feels like a slimy pervert calling her Ball Gag Girl, even just in his head.

It turns out that Callum has his own trailer - the easiest way to tell this isn't a Canadian production, even the _guest stars_ have their own trailers here. It's not very big compared to some of the others (that jet-liner sized one probably belongs to Duchovny, Hugh figures), but Callum probably wouldn't know what to do with one that actually had space anyway. Hugh follows him inside and looks around; it's about what he expected. There's a sofa, a table and chairs, a television - the standard trailer fare - and, because this is Callum's trailer, about six dozen golf clubs lining one wall.

Hugh rolls his eyes, but doesn't comment. The last time he said something about golf being an old man's sport, Callum made him _play_, and he is not making that mistake twice.

**

They have dinner at some quasi-upscale restaurant near the set. It's the kind of place with cloth napkins and three forks per place setting, but it's got a jukebox in one corner and abstract art on the walls, so Hugh can see why Callum likes it - and how they can get away with showing up in jeans. The food they order arrives fast, which is a relief because Hugh is suddenly really hungry. Airplane food sucks. Callum ends up with some fancy pasta dish that Hugh can't pronounce the name of and gets sauce all over his lips, which he licks away slowly and purposely, his eyes on Hugh the entire time.

Hugh watches, his mouth open slightly, and he knows that Callum is doing it on purpose, trying to get Hugh going in public. Which doesn't stop the heat from flaring up, low in his gut, as Callum starts swirling his tongue around the fork. _Asshole_, he thinks affectionately.

They eat in silence for awhile, until the immediate hunger is gone, and then they start talking about the projects they have on the go, the stuff they have coming up. Callum's going back to B.C. for more "Battlestar Galactica" (he flips Hugh off again when Hugh refers to it as the Paranoid Android gig), but he's not sure what's coming up after that. Hugh's got until the day after tomorrow before he has to be in Montreal for more "Durham County", then it's right back to Toronto for more "Flashpoint", and he's gotta find time to record a little bit in there, really get that album moving.

The name of Hugh's work ethic is always _more_. Most people don't get it. Almost everyone else asks why Hugh works so much, why he doesn't take a damn vacation once in awhile, but not Callum. Callum knows exactly why Hugh does it, because it's for the same reasons he does - working nonstop makes it easy to resist the bad things he sometimes still wants. So Callum doesn't ask _why_, he just asks how it's going, and Hugh spends a long time talking excitedly about season two of "Durham County", which he's about to go start filming. He's read the scripts and he's thrilled about working with the cast and crew again, but he's also nervous about getting back into the psyche of Mike Sweeney.

Hugh doesn't actually say that last part out loud, but he thinks Callum gets it, because Callum's been there before, too. Hugh remembers what Callum was like filming _Suspicious River_, the dark look in Callum's eyes that never really went away until months after shooting was wrapped. They had a lot of sex back then, way more than they do now (being on opposite ends of the continent for nine months a year really puts a damper on these things), and Hugh remembers how rough it got sometimes, how it was hard to tell whether he was in bed with Callum or Gary.

Secretly, that's what worries Hugh the most - that he'll get so into it, no one will be able to tell the difference between Hugh and Mike anymore.

He doesn't say that either, of course. He just talks about the show itself - Callum's actually seen the first season, which is impressive because usually he's about five to ten years behind on all forms of media, but he likes "Durham County" a lot, which makes Hugh feel proud.

**

It's pretty late by the time they finish dinner and head back to Callum's hotel, especially for Hugh, who is still on east coast time. It's another long taxi ride, but this one is better because Hugh spends most of it casually touching Callum's thigh, running his hand higher and higher until Callum smacks his hand away, but not before Hugh feels how hard he is. He grins triumphantly, and Callum jerks his head towards the driver, a silent _we're in public, moron_. But the driver is staring straight ahead and pointedly ignoring them, so Hugh keeps on doing it.

The driver's probably seen it all before, he figures, but he gives him a really good tip when they arrive at the hotel anyway.

Once they're safely shut up inside his hotel room, Callum shoves Hugh down onto the bed before he even has a chance to look around. _The ceiling is white_ is about all he has time to notice before Callum is straddling his waist, hands everywhere as he leans down to kiss Hugh, and _fucking finally_. Callum's mouth is hot and wet and familiar, exactly what Hugh has been waiting for since he decided to hop on that plane in the first place. His hands scramble at Callum's back, fisting into his shirt and holding him as close as he physically can.

"Why are you here, Hugh?" Callum asks when he pulls away. His voice is low and Hugh can barely hear him despite the fact that Callum is, literally, right on top of him.

"Because I -" Hugh doesn't know how to answer the question without sounding like a chick. "I wanted to see you," is what he finally says, and that's still kind of girly, but not nearly as girly as _I need you_ and _I miss you_, which is what else he's thinking. Callum just nods, like he understands exactly what Hugh _isn't_ saying. He probably does - they've been doing this a long time, they know how this goes.

Callum leans back into an upright position, still straddling Hugh's hips, and strips off his t-shirt. He has to get up off the bed for the rest, which is unfortunate in many ways, but it gives Hugh the pleasure of seeing him strip - taking off first his shoes and socks, then his jeans, then his boxer-briefs - so Hugh is not complaining. Far from it - he grins widely, enjoying the show. He lets out a wolf-whistle as Callum bends over to untangle the underwear from his ankles. Callum looks up sharply and throws the underwear at Hugh's head. "Dick," he mutters.

"Yeah. Want yours," Hugh replies smugly. Callum rolls his eyes at the juvenile joke, but he's smiling all the same and that devious glint is back in his eyes and oh, Hugh is so in trouble here, he can tell.

Sure enough, Callum stays away, out of Hugh's reach, and absently starts stroking himself. Hugh's eyes flare hot with want, and he makes some needy noise that would probably be embarrassing around other people, but Callum just grins. Bastard. Hugh glares at him. "You could be less of an asshole, you know, and get the fuck back over here. Maybe let me take care of that for you."

"That's not nice, calling me an asshole."

"Neither is teasing, you fucker," Hugh grumbles. Callum nods, as if he's relenting to the fact that Hugh is right - which Hugh _is_, thank you very much. Even though he doesn't really have any room to talk about _teasing_ after that stunt he pulled in the cab. Callum doesn't mention that, though, just walks over to where Hugh is laying and starts undoing Hugh's pants.

Hugh is very much okay with this course of action.

It doesn't take long for Callum to have him naked - practice makes perfect, they say - but it feels like forever, and Hugh is practically writhing with _want it now_. He's impatient as Callum pushes and prods and manhandles him into the position he wants - still flat on his back, but farther up the bed now so that his feet reach the edge of the bed, not the floor - then steps back to admire his handiwork at getting Hugh spread out like a goddamn Christmas dinner or something.

Finally Callum climbs back onto the bed, settles himself between Hugh's legs and holds himself over top of Hugh with one hand on either side of Hugh's chest. He grins wickedly, which worries Hugh for about half a second, but then - well, who gives a damn, because Callum is kissing him again and that's good. Hugh gets into it fast because, yeah, he missed this, too, and it's familiar and easy and exactly what Hugh wants.

The goatee is a weird addition, though. Hugh's still not used to how it feels, but he finds that he likes how scratchy it is against his neck when Callum ducks his head to bite along Hugh's jawline, then does something really incredible to his neck, _Jesus_. Hugh groans again, shoving his hips up aimlessly, trying to find some kind of friction to work with. Callum doesn't let him have it, though - he keeps himself raised above Hugh, just out of reach until -

Hugh hears the familiar crinkle of a condom wrapper, and his heart is thundering in anticipation because this never gets old, never, and he knows that it's going to be so damn _good_. It feels like an eternity between the noise and Callum pushing inside of him, but then he's there and it feels perfect, exactly the way Hugh remembers. Callum starts to move, but keeps his thrusts long and tortuously slow just because he knows it drives Hugh crazy.

Hugh moves so that his feet are planted flat on the bed, his legs bent and spread wide, desperate for _more_, now. It doesn't do any fucking good though, because Callum knows all Hugh's tricks and he only slows down even more to make up for it. Hugh growls in frustration. He knows what Callum wants, but he's not going to - _fine_. "Jesus, faster. Faster, you asshole," Hugh grunts out, one hand reaching up to grab Callum by the back of the neck.

Callum, surprisingly, obliges right away. Usually he's a complete dick about it, makes Hugh really beg for it and say _please_. But this time he just balances himself by gripping Hugh's shoulders tight and starts to move faster, harder so that Hugh really feels it. Callum shifts his weight just the slightest bit and then he's hitting _right there_, right where Hugh needs it and Hugh feels the pleasure zing through him, from his head to his fingers to his toes and everywhere in between.

His eyes shut of their own accord, the pleasure is so goddamn overwhelming that he's not sure he can look at Callum right now without exploding, but of course Callum is going to push him. Always with the pushing. "Look at me, Hugh," Callum says sharply. He's breathless and panting, but that doesn't make him any less commanding, so Hugh does exactly as he's told and opens his eyes.

He's not sure what he was expecting, but Callum's eyes are wide and clear and filled with this stubborn affection that Hugh only ever sees when they're together like this. And that - God, that's impossibly hot. Hugh tightens his grip on Callum's neck and starts pushing his hips forward as best he can, trying to meet Callum's thrusts. It's working, so good, and Hugh can see that Callum starting to lose control just a little bit. He breaks out into a fresh layer of sweat, he loses his rhythm just the tiniest bit, and he - _ha, finally_, Hugh thinks triumphantly - lets out a low moan of pleasure. Getting Callum to make noise like that in bed isn't exactly easy - Callum will talk, sure, but incoherent noise is rare - but Hugh relishes the challenge and he can't help but grin widely after he succeeds.

"Smug bastard," Callum says breathlessly.

Hugh just keeps grinning. "Always."

Naturally, Callum takes that as the challenge it isn't actually intended to be and starts really working to get Hugh off. He removes one hand from Hugh's shoulders and brings it down between their sweat-soaked bodies, casually running his fingers up and down Hugh's cock and _Jesus_, he's such a fucking tease. Hugh grits his teeth and tries not to beg, but that doesn't last long. "Callum," he chokes out. "C'mon, do it, I -"

It's enough. Callum finally wraps his hand around Hugh's dick and - "Oh, fuck, yes," Hugh groans. Callum is still moving hard and fast inside of him, and he's a fucking _pro_ at using his hand on Hugh to get him off. It's like sensory overload, and Hugh can't seem to catch his breath but he doesn't care one damn bit because it feels so damn _good_ to have Callum all over him, inside and out, his hand working perfectly to bring Hugh right to the edge.

Callum is muttering something above him, some kind of command to _come on, Hugh, now, come now, dammit, Hugh **now**_ and Hugh is barely aware of it but he damn well obeys anyway, coming hard all over Callum's hand and his own stomach. It's so strong that Hugh can barely breathe afterwards, and he's still struggling for breath a minute later when Callum comes, his grip on Hugh's shoulder so strong that he might actually leave bruises.

**

The next morning, Callum leaves early to go shoot another scene. He doesn't say _I'll miss you_ or _thanks for coming to see me_, but he kisses Hugh - who is still half-asleep in bed - before he goes and tells him to have a safe flight, which Hugh figures means about the same thing, so he smiles and goes back to sleep for another couple of hours.

The flight home is crappy. There's a screaming baby a few rows back, the weather is shit and makes the plane shake in a way that is almost alarming, and the in-flight movie is _My Best Friend's Wedding_, which is horrible. Under normal circumstances, Hugh would be really annoyed right now, but today he just leans back in his seat and smiles happily to himself. He feels _good_, really good, and not just because he had really excellent sex the night before. He feels good because he feels calm, relaxed, confident he can handle the next few months and not go crazy.

And if he can't, well, he knows where to go.


End file.
